Delirium
by faraways
Summary: And so insanity killed the cat.


**story title; **Delirium  
**characters; **Completely OC.  
**wordcount; **2,300  
**warnings; **Implied character death.  
**disclaimer; **All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of the author of the work from which this is derived.

**notes; **I am very happy with this. It's dark and angsty, but isn't everything I write? Muahahahsaoifhehoieah  
Written for Adventures in Mentoring - a Challenge and 15 OneShot Challenge on WCF.  
Edited/re-written 6-29-13.

* * *

**Delirium**

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**001.**

From the moment her golden eyes open, it is wretched.

**002.**

The she-kit is standing in a gigantic clearing, watching solemn-faced as her father is dragged from behind the mountainous expanse of stone. His usually bright, playful eyes are as dull as the dirt stained on her paws from her earlier play session. It seems like such a like time ago to the kit; she had been playing fox and rabbit with her denmates in the moss clearing, squealing with delight when the tom with the big feet tackled her from behind.

She watches as he is thrown onto the jagged mountain of rock. He lets out a grunt, his muscles failing him, and becomes limp. Jeers and cries of hatred fill the camp: his name, accompanied by strings of insults that her little mind does not understand.

"You killed them—two innocent cats—you evil piece of dung! How could you?"

"Filthy fox-hearted rogue!"

"Traitor! This is what you get for murdering Eagleclaw and Daisyfur!"

Her leader emerges from his den for the first time in almost a half-moon. (_who could blame him, after losing his sister and her mate?_) He is stone-faced, though his amber eyes glint with pure madness as he announces her father's fate.

"Kill him."

A scarred brown tom immediately jumps forward, a malicious grin plastered on his face, and she feels a ball of hatred swoop forward as he positions his jaw around her father's gray-furred neck, teeth ready to pierce his tender skin and deliver death. Supportive yowls echo throughout the clearing, though they were not all that was heard; her mother's fierce growl of rage roars among the supportive yowls, and the white queen leaps forward, only to be restrained by a massive horde of cats.

Eyes widening in fright, the white kit's gray-dappled pelt shakes uncontrollably. She does not understand, does not comprehend what he has done. Her father (_the murderer, the outcast_) is a kind, big, brave cat. He cannot be killed. She darts forward through the immense gathering of cats to reach him, to save the one cat who truly was always there for her. But nothing stops the brown tom from tearing out the throat of a traitor.

So when the cloud-furred kit finally pushes through the now-cheering crowd, she does not see happy blue eyes, or strong muscles, or any amount of health from her father. She sees smiling, crazed cats, celebrating the extermination of their Clanmates' murderer. She sees the ugly brown tom with red-stained fangs, and her father's green-eyed friend turning away solemnly.

She sees a broken, mangled body, blood streaming from every source, and the ripped-up flesh it used to own strung across the camp mercilessly.

Her father is gone, along with her sanity.

**003.**

She awoke, golden eyes blinking rapidly, trying to recover from the sudden burst of sunlight shining through the entrance to the apprentices' den.

Cloudpaw stood, her lengthy, angular legs towering her above the other apprentices' sleeping forms. The littermates Duskpaw and Graypaw were laying across from each other, both snoozing, their white bellies exposed to the ceiling. Their sister Rainpaw, her gorgeous silver fur appearing white in the morning sun, was curled up against the sleek-furred Nightpaw, their chests rising and falling in perfect unison. Cloudpaw rolled her eyes. _Stupid furballs. Like apprentice love will last._

She continued to watch her denmates with jealous eyes, only to be disrupted from her thoughts by a poke from behind. She whirled around, snarling, but stopped in her tracks at the sight of her mentor, his green gaze narrowed in dismay.

"Spying upon the others, are you?" Volefang meowed, a faint hint of teasing in his low morning voice.

Cloudpaw scoffed, but her white paws shuffled uncomfortably across the stone floor. "No."

Nodding as if he actually believed her, Volefang flicked his skinny black tail as a signal for her to follow. She ducked her head under the lichen overhanging the entrance—the feeling of it brushing against her fur always gave her chills—and padded into the clearing that marked as camp, already trying to block her ears from the shouts of disapproval and the jeers driven by hatred. Sometimes it seemed as if cats got up early and waited outside the den for hours, just so they would be ready to taunt and sneer at her.

"Back off, you idiotic furballs!" her mentor snarled, standing in front of her protectively. She had never really understood why Volefang acted so father-like towards her, but Snowstep had told her once that he and her father had known each other when they were still involved with the rogue life.

As usual, the cats parted immediately, like fur when an iron claw is raked through it. Volefang had a temper—and they all knew it.

"Go on now," hissed Lionpaw, the golden-pelted brother of Nightpaw and Thornpaw. "Run away from us." The tom repeated almost the exact same words every morning. Cloudpaw's days were always like this—a ritual repeated over and over again, never changing.

Volefang brushed against her gently, though his nose was wrinkled in disgust. "Don't listen. Just keep your head up."

But why keep your head up when there's nothing good to look at?

**004.**

Cloudpaw heaved in another breath, her lungs desperately clawing for air.

"Keep it up! With those long legs you should be able to run as fast as a wolf!" called Blossomheart from several fox-lengths away. "To the bush and back again!"

_Shut up, you fat fish_, Cloudpaw wanted to screech. This would have been an entirely false statement, however. Blossomheart was the most beautiful she-cat in the Clan, with the slenderest of bodies, giant amber orbs for eyes, and glistening calico fur. _Of course the leader's daughter is gorgeous. Why would it work out any differently? _

Cloudpaw continued on, her paws shuffling across the Training Clearing with exhaustion. Every step felt like another mountain to climb. It never seemed to end. Finally, she reached the oak tree that marked the end of the course, and collapsed with satisfaction.

"Nice run, Cloudpaw."

The white apprentice glanced up in surprise, never having heard such words directed at her before.

Thornpaw stood over her, golden fur covered with dirt from his hunt. His mouth was curled into a small smile. "Takes a lot of determination to stick with Blossomheart. She mentored me for a while, when Quailfeather was in the nursery."

"Mmhmm," Cloudpaw mewed, trying to sound like she could care less. The golden tom's smile faltered a bit, and she immediately felt guilty. Some cat was being nice to her, and this was how she acted? "You trained great with Blossomheart, even though you weren't used to her. I know I couldn't last a day with a mentor that wasn't Volefang."

Goofy grin returning, Thornpaw dipped his head. "Thanks." He looked at Cloudpaw deeply for a moment, green eyes uncertain, before the big feet he was always made fun of for as a kit twisted around to return to camp. "See you around, Cloudpaw."

Cloudpaw watched him leave, a feeling of want overcoming her. She wanted him to come back, to explain himself, to tell her why he was suddenly chitchatting with her like it was the most normal thing in the world.

But mostly, she just wanted a friend.

**005.**

"I hope you know what today is, Cloudpaw." Volefang broke the silence, ripping another bite from the large rabbit he had caught for their breakfast.

"My warrior ceremony," she replied tonelessly. She licked her slender body nervously._ I should have left the Clan a long time ago. This was stupid—trying to be like the others, trying to make friends and be happy. _Cloudpaw thought of Thornpaw's actions in the past moon or so after speaking to her that first time: offering her prey, asking her to a hunt, cracking out dumb fox and rabbit jokes. _That was all fake, I know. A trick the other apprentices created._

"Aren't you excited?"

Volefang's words snapped Cloudpaw out of her thoughts. She glared at him angrily. "No."

His green gaze narrowed. "You did so well on your assessment, Cloudpaw." After a moment, he added, "Stoneclaw and Snowstep would have been proud."

Cloudpaw felt her body turn to ice, her fur stand up on end, as her parents' names were just oh-so-casually thrown out into the open. Her mother had died only a quarter-moon ago, and she hadn't heard her father's name since that one awful day of her kithood. She could hear the jeers of the evil cats echoing through her mind. "_Shut up_," she hissed, both to the images in her head and to Volefang. "_Shut up shut up shut up_!"

The black tom's nonexistent eyebrows scrunched together angrily. "Why? After all your hard work—after a _year_ of withstanding all this mouse dung from your so-called _Clanmates—_you don't think any cat is proud of you?" he seethed, voice gradually getting louder.

"That is exactly what I think," she snarled, a wave of hatred flowing over her. "I am a rogue, the daughter of a murderer. No one cares what I've done. When I get up on the rock to get my warrior name, they're going to shout and hiss at me and hate me like always, and you know it. I don't want a warrior ceremony if that's what I have to go through." Then, throat aching, she whispered, "I'm just so tired."

He swallowed, his eyes turning soft. "Cloudpaw, I wish you had it easy. You have no idea how many times I've prayed to StarClan for your safety, your satisfaction, your happiness. It just isn't your destiny. You have to stay strong."

Cloudpaw stared her mentor straight in the face, golden gaze certain. "I can't."

**006.**

"Then by the power of StarClan, I give you your warrior name!" Darkstar yowled. The whole Clan buzzed with energy, and many of them smiled cheerfully. "Thornpaw, from this moment on you will be known as Thornheart. StarClan honors your cleverness and strength, and we welcome you as a full warrior of WindClan."

The roar of cheers and supportive shouts that filled the clearing overwhelmed the gray-patched she-cat. _Thornpaw's always been so popular… _Jealousy panged in her stomach, but she pushed it away defiantly. _Who cares? That's never going to be you. Just get this over with._

Darkstar turned to her, his amber eyes gleaming. "And lastly, Cloudpaw." He said her name as if she was an insignificant, shiny-shelled bug he wanted to squish into pieces under his paw.

Everything after that was a nightmare. A blur that Cloudpaw fogged out of her mind and hoped to never remember. There were sinful sayings, untruthful vows, and empty promises. There were taunts, crazed whooping, and chuckles as her new name was announced.

It was insanity, plain and simple.

**007.**

She ran away from them all.

_Run, run, run_, she told herself as she blazed through the forest. Her legs ached, her eyes ached, her brain ached. _Run away, run away, run away. You're good at this, you're good at this, you're good at this._

She trips and falls and snags her fur against piercing branches, making her pelt stain with red. She does not notice, though. She only runs away.

What else is there to do when the legacy of your parent compiles every cat's impression of you? When your mother starved herself to death in lunacy, and none of your Clanmates even cared? When no cat will ever love you for who you are, will never cherish you? When your accomplishments are forgotten, and your mistakes are remembered for the rest of your days?

Nothing.

There is nothing else to do.

**008.**

She leaned over the edge of the cliff, peering down into its depths.

_It looks so much nicer down there. It is almost as if it is open with all the possibilities—open only for me_, she mused thoughtlessly, not noticing her body breaking down, her heaving sobs, her mind seeping every last chance at life away. _I bet there is a better life down there. Maybe some fun ground cats or something who will want me. _She giggled at the idea.

_I know it is better down_ _there_, she decided._ So much better. Maybe they can change my warrior name. It's a very dreadful one._

With that last comforting thought, Cloudkiller leaped into her new paradise.

**009.**

The next day, the body of a beautiful cloud-furred she-cat is discovered in the gorge.

Her death is celebrated from dawn till dusk—finally, the last living blood of the murderer is gone!

Celebrated by all but two, that is.

One of the two is a gigantic warrior with a heart just as big as his feet, and just as golden as his fur. This warrior has only had eyes for one, ever since his nursery days. He finds the same fate as the beautiful she-cat, and joins her in the stars.

The second is a skinny black tom, with piercing green eyes and a tongue as snappy as a turtle. He rages and kills and tears through his Clanmates after the death of his foster daughter, cursing and heaving and choking on his own spit. Eventually, he is finally reigned in and put down to rest with those he has lost.

Sometimes the world is a terrible place.

**010.**

As you can see, not all stories have happy endings. It is the truth—the bitter truth. A mentor could not help his apprentice, no matter how hard he tried.

And so insanity killed the cat.


End file.
